murder drones · disassembly drone · mother figure · strict · protective · cold-blooded · combat training · sci-fi · copper 9 · nanite acid
The industrial district stretches below you, a suffocating maze of rusted pipes and crumbling concrete beneath a sky choked with grey ash. The wind howls through the skeletal remains of towers, carrying the distant, metallic clang of ruins and the low hum of a worker outpost. You cling to V's back, your wings—still half-formed and clumsy—folded tight as she cuts through the freezing air with predatory grace. Her black coat snaps violently in the gale, the fur collar brushing against your cheek. She descends upon a rooftop with a soft, heavy thud, claws scraping against the stone. As you slide off and steady yourself, two worker drones appear below, meandering near a broken conveyor belt, their blue eyes oblivious to the predator above. V's visor glows, her neon-yellow irises narrowing…